


cross my heart, hope to die

by gild_fire



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: 3+1, Angst and Humor, Character Study, F/M, honestly mick is the star of the show here, lots of talking about ~trust, my bby beth just needs a hug and unfortunately shes not getting it here, sorry for the angst but it just felt right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29554617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gild_fire/pseuds/gild_fire
Summary: "The words come out quietly and quickly, like she didn’t really want to say the words. And maybe it’s because she feels weird sharing what’s on her mind. Maybe her lungs weren’t prepared for the force of conviction that comes when you believe what you’re saying. Maybe she was so out of practice that her mouth wasn’t used to how the truth felt on her lips."--Or, 3 times Beth lies and the 1 time she can't lie to Rio. Set post-S3.
Relationships: Beth Boland & Mick, Beth Boland/Dean Boland, Beth Boland/Rio, Beth Boland/Ruby Hill/Annie Marks
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	1. Deansie

“And then I was like, excuse me sir, I know you want a spa and everything. But these are luxury, customized spas, you know?”

  
Beth nods in affirmation. She would have tried to follow the bouncing ball that had carelessly jumped far, far away from the starting point of the conversation. In early years of their relationship, Beth would tried her best to make sense of Dean’s story--well, at least what Dean considered her best cause let’s be honest, he’d never seen Beth at her best. Probably couldn’t handle her at her best. But these days Beth could barely muster the energy to make sense of Dean and his inane stories.

  
“So, anyways,” Dean rambles on, “then Tom walks over—you know Tom, right? What a guy! I mean they don’t make salesmen like that anymore—he knows exactly how to bargain and...”  
Beth brushes yellow curls away from her eyes and glances up to Dean. His eyes are trained on the television in the other room in front of him and a grin takes over his face. It’s large and silly like a cartoon.

  
She moves towards the kitchen sink, barely registering what Dean is babbling on about. Not that it matters anyways. If Dean just stepped outside of himself for a second, he would realize that Beth’s thoughts were elsewhere.

  
Her mind is running through checklists in preparation for her shift at the Paper Porcupine today, and she’s still not sure if she’s missing anything. How many orders do we have today? Did Ruby pick up the nail polish yet? Wait, was Annie free after 9pm or before? She starts to sew these loose threads into a tentative plan and stitches in a few different cover stories, just in case.

  
“Can you believe it, Bethie? Like seriously, what a guy,” Dean interrupts, breaking her out of her trance.

  
God, now what does he need? She trains a smile on her face, looking over to him with practiced interest.

  
“Yeah, we’ll have to invite him over sometime, and you can make that casserole with the—uh, what is it called? Bechámel or something?”

  
Dean smiles expectantly with his eyebrows raised high and his mouth hanging open, as if he was a dog waiting for a reward after being told to sit. Like remembering the word bechámel made him a good partner.

  
But Beth has never made a casserole with bechámel. Never would. So, she acts just as she would with any clueless pet: she smiles brightly and coos,

  
“Wow, honey, that sounds like a great day.”

  
She also knows that this week’s schedule is going to be a long one. Last week she managed to bake treats for Jane’s class and complete all Paper Porcupine orders, but she also slept for a grand total of 30 hours the whole week. And this week, Rio made a point of increasing the order sizes because he wanted to--“just see how it goes''. Beth ended up with a headache the rest of that evening trying to compute when she was going to make all those batches, but she much preferred a headache to a bullet in the head.

  
Dean’s question brings the reality of her week to the forefront, and Beth realizes she doesn’t have time to make dinner for herself, let alone six others this week. So, she tries to kill two birds with one stone.

  
“You know, maybe Tom should meet the kids. I’m sure your mom would love to meet him as well, he seems like a riot.”

  
“Huh. That’s actually a good idea.”

  
Beth smiles brightly.

  
“Of course, honey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Had to keep this short bc of Dean lol hope you liked it!


	2. Ruby & Annie

Too many thoughts and regrets had been running through her mind during her drive home from the neighborhood park. Flashbacks from these past few months insist on distracting her during mundane tasks, and Beth thinks she’s lucky that she didn’t run a stoplight on the way home. 

Beth presses her forehead on the steering wheel and scrunches her eyes into tight wrinkles. She doesn’t want to get out and face real life yet. So she sits in her driveway. A sigh tumbles from her lips as she thinks over the stubborn thoughts that had been agitating her mind—a depressing sight on this suspiciously sunny Michigan day. 

Today, these stubborn thoughts had begun when she ran into Rhea and Marcus at the playground. She didn’t realize she would ever have to see them again—at least not in real life. Sure, Rhea’s bright smiles and Marcus’ curious questions had haunted her dreams once or twice before, but it was easier for Beth to pretend it was just a figment of her imagination and move forward. Easier to pretend that she made the right choices when she didn’t have to stare at its consequences. 

But when she arrived at the playground to drop the kids off for a playdate, reality crashed down on her and she didn’t think she could hold up the facade any longer. 

She saw them from afar. They were safe and happy in their own bubble. But Beth had never felt so exposed. Eyes wide in shock, she was rooted in place. She couldn’t bear to look away and yet she couldn’t get any closer.

Something painful throbbed forcefully in her chest and she knew that there was little chance of her being able to keep her emotions in order. She took a moment to finally tear her eyes away from Marcus and Rhea and frantically make her way back to the safety of her car. As she reversed out of the parking lot, the panic of a chance encounter caught up with her, and her thoughts jumped and latched onto her kids. Could they tell that something was off with their mom lately? 

Beth thought about Kenny’s appointments with the school therapist and if he’s ever blamed his mom for bringing instability into their home. As she got closer to her street corner, she found herself thinking about Sarah and Ben and Harry too.

Now, alone and stationed in the driveway, Beth thinks about that time she accidentally tripped Annie at the playground when they were younger and Annie made a fuss about getting bruised. She wonders if all the times she’s reprimanded her sister for being immature hurt her more than helped.

She thinks about how often she tells her kids  _ I love you _ , where she was when she decided to marry Dean, and Ruby’s reaction when Beth asked her to be her bridesmaid. Beth wonders for a moment what her own reaction was when Ruby asked her the same thing, and she wonders why they didn’t talk to each other for two weeks during the spring of 1992. 

But Beth doesn’t think about leaving a string of pearls on the warehouse door. She forgets the memory of him teasing her neck with warm kisses. Pretends he can’t melt her with heated stares, and blocks the feeling of his muscles under her hands as he moved on top of her. 

The steering wheel is hot under her grip, and Beth refuses to entertain any thoughts about a heavy golden gun in her hand and how it gleamed in the moonlight. Beth packs the thought up because in the past, the more she dwelled on these decisions, the more she became weighed down by something dark and sinister. Beth thinks it feels a lot like a heavy metal chain wrapped around her neck and at any minute, someone might step on the end of the chain and yank her down. She can’t entirely name it—not that she had tried that hard—but she also can’t ignore this empty feeling that tasted a lot like despair. Of course, she would remove the chain if she could. But at this point, she thinks it’s tattooed to her neck—permanent and deliberately placed. 

Sometimes when she was feeling brave, Beth would hunt for the end of the chain and trace it back to its owner. She’ll catch a glimpse of pale skin and delicate fingers when she expects to see rougher and tanner ones. She shivers when they look familiar and small. But then chain tightens around her neck, and she feels cold metal abruptly sear into her skin. She is forced to abandon the search. This is her punishment for trying to find out who holds the other end. Maybe it’s better not to know who holds it, who decides when her neck will snap into two. 

A deep, long sigh passes through her lips, and then Beth hears bright voices through the car window. She lifts her head off the steering wheel and watches Ruby and Annie walk up to her front door. Ruby is carrying what seems to be a pink box of doughnuts, and Beth sees her give Annie the side eye for trying to steal the box from right under her nose. 

Clacking her boots against the bricks of the footpath, Annie just laughs and stuffs her hands into her pockets. Ruby shakes her head and tosses her car keys into her purse. And Beth—Beth is struck by how easygoing and happy they look. 

If she ever found herself in a sticky situation or just wanted to wallow, Beth knows she could always call up Ruby and Annie. They had seen her at her worst and her weirdest, and they would be by her side in an instant. She  _ knows _ this and she desperately wants to yell for help. 

And yet, there she sits in her car, unravelling and alone. Bound, tied, and shrouded in darkness, Beth wonders if she’ll ever be rid of this weight. 

She wants to show Ruby and Annie the chain around her neck that is weighing her down and explain how she was capable of pulling the trigger three times, how she was capable of letting Marcus into her children’s lives and then turning around to pay off a hitman. But, she has a strong suspicion that if she did, it would tighten swiftly and kill her right there. The owner of the chain would never allow her to divulge all her secrets or reveal her true nature.

And besides, what good would that do for anyone? She can’t risk further embroiling Ruby and Annie. For most of her life, she had made sure her closest friends were kept as far away as possible from dangers that lurked in dark corners, and she could never live with herself if she allowed the dark cloud hanging over her head to transfer over to Ruby or Annie. 

So, maybe she relies on an old trick. One that she had turned to during the worst times.

Gathering the resolve to pretend once again, she makes her way over to her carefree friends. She nears and forces some casualness into her features when she greets them. Her smile—blinding and glossy—shines clearly and Beth is certain no one will notice the dark cloud thundering above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! thanks for reading :)


	3. Mick

It’s a little disconcerting the way he stares at Beth and absentmindedly licks thick golden syrup down the side of his thumb. Beth presses a few dainty fingers onto the center of her lips and tries to hold back an unwarranted comment, or perhaps bile. She’s not too sure which would spill out first. 

Hoping to place her focus elsewhere, Beth glances around. Fluorescent light dully lands on stained tabletops, and a blue and red iHop logo is branded onto every napkin dispenser. Beth hears boisterous yelling behind her and glances to the side to see a mother leaning over a crying baby while grabbing a hold of her energetic toddler. 

Some of the tension tied up between Beth’s eyebrows ease as she fondly remembers outings like these with her own family. Back then, these things always stressed Beth out in the moment. Having to wrangle four young kids and negotiate how many sodas they could order was enough of a headache, but Dean didn’t make it any better, never made it better—sometimes acting like a fifth kid and sometimes enabling the kids to order waffles  _ and  _ pancakes.

But as she watches the young mother coo at her teary-eyed baby and dab a wipe across the rosy cheeks of her toddler, Beth feels a sharp pang shoot right through the center of her chest. She thinks she should be accustomed to this feeling, this familiar friend, this  _ guilt _ , but it just feels fresh and insistent.

Still twisted in her seat and with her back to her brunchmate, Beth allows her eyes to close. The guilt subsides after a moment. 

By now she knows a thing or two about pain. It cuts away distractions as exactly as she trims fat off the Sunday roast, and it overpowers useless feelings that she had no business feeling. 

More importantly, Beth knows that when pain ebbs away, sharp focus fills the empty space and she is reminded of what she’s doing and why. A blank mask smooths onto her face and she twists back around to face Mick.

“Let me ask you something,” she ventures, “how long have you been cleaning cash through the carwash?” 

He reaches for a napkin but stares intently back, never blinking. He thinks her question over for a moment, and Beth gets the feeling that he’s seriously considering her inquiry.

“Just the right amount of time.”

Beth blinks. She tries again.

“Well, it can’t be more than a few months, right?”

“Could be,” he nods solemnly before adding, “But who’s to say, really?”

And look, he was trying. He had good intentions when he asked Beth if she wanted to stop at iHop. Mick knew things haven’t been going too well for her recently, and while he felt that she deserved all the turmoil and sleepless nights, he also knew what it was like to be in Rio’s warpath. 

It also struck him odd that after all this time of knowing her and keep watch over her every move, he had rarely seen Mrs. Boland smile, if ever. Usually he saw her with her eyebrows knit together in concern and lips pressed tight like the words coming out of her mouth burned her as badly as it did to hear them. And maybe he wanted to know where her head was at and what game she was playing at. So he invited her along to participate in a tried and true tradition of his: eating breakfast foods while sharing feelings. Frankly, Mick thought himself a modern man. 

In his opinion, the late afternoon brunch was going well. He walked her through the menu and even shared his opinion on the “most underrated” dishes before flagging the waiter over. But after a while, she started to resemble the eggs that sat sadly in front of her—cold and pale—and Mick couldn’t help but stare curiously. 

And now she was beginning to make inquiries that she clearly no longer had the luxury to ask.

Mick was growing annoyed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. At that moment, he wishes he had taken Rio’s advice and worn his soft, plaid button-up today. His signature leather jackets typically gave him a feeling of security and confidence, but as she asked more and more questions, the thick leather started to feel tight around his biceps. So, Mick switches tactics and takes the offensive. 

“Why aren’t you eating anything?” he inserts gruffly.

“I’m not hungry,” she says dismissively before jumping back to her original line of questions.

“Are you using any other services in the area? Or are you still in the process of rebuilding?”

Holding her gaze, Mick picks up a knife smothered in bright red jelly and carefully angles it against a piece of bacon. Her eyes dart down to follow his movements, but quickly shift up so as to not reveal her hand. Ever watching, Mick notes her shifty behavior and lowers his tone a little to bargain.

“You know, still haven’t gotten my custom order yet.”

Lips pressed together in displeasure, Beth knows she doesn’t have an answer for him. At least not one that is satisfactory or one that would secure her inside information. As these thoughts flit through her mind, Beth realizes she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place and needs to once again think on her feet if she wants to escape.

“I’m glad you brought that up,” Beth quips, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about an interesting opportunity.”

“I’m a patient man, Mrs. Boland, but I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.”

“Of course, and I know that. But I believe it would be smarter to think about your future and,” Beth raises a knowing eyebrow as she enunciates, “invest in some select long-term assets. And, I know just the right ones for you.”

“You’re a financial planner now?”

“I’m just saying that I can’t imagine how useful funny money is compared to investing it and benefitting later on,” she lies through her teeth. “But if you’re not interested,” she trails off, “your order can be ready tomorrow, and you can wash it the old-fashioned way.”

This time, Beth doesn’t squirm and doesn’t waver under his blank stare. Just folds her hands on top of the table and lifts her chin up slightly. She is unjustified in her confidence, but she’s not going to let him know that. After all, she doesn’t have any other choice. 

Watching that mother tend to her children earlier this afternoon only hardened her resolve and Beth was going to scramble to survive in order to be there for her kids. And if that meant promising Mick something she doesn’t have and burying herself into a bigger hole, she was darn well going to do it.

He cracks his knuckles and gives a quick look around the room, checking for any suspicious behavior. 

“What d’ya have in mind?”

Her eyes crinkle in the corners and lips turn up just slightly. It’s enough to signal to her dubious brunchmate that she is capable of feeling joy every so often. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter :) I hope you liked it too!


	4. Rio

Beth hurries over to the sink and dumps the stacked dinner plates into the basin. The clacks of the dishes hitting each other disrupt the quiet of the evening, but it’s markedly better than sitting still at the family dinner in the room next door. 

It’s part of the reason why she had relocated to the kitchen. She hoped to catch her breath and muster enough energy to continue broadcasting fake smiles and feigning interest.

She hates that she doesn’t know to be real with her own family. How she always has to be the kindest and most patient version of herself around them. She had been putting on shows for others her whole life, and she was wondering when it would be time to retire from the role. 

But revealing the dark and murkier sides of herself doesn’t make for a good mother or good wife. It doesn’t do any good for anyone. And besides, unleashing her despair and unhappiness on those she cared for wouldn’t make her feel any better. It just makes her feel worse. 

Leaning against the edge of the counter, Beth looks at how the shiny stainless steel of the sink reflects the moonlight. The faucet drips every few seconds and usually she would be bothered by the sound, but her thoughts are elsewhere tonight. 

A few months ago, she decided that perhaps it was time to actually feel content about the life she has. Perhaps. Perhaps, because try as she might, she had tasted sin one too many times and everything else has paled in comparison. 

But Beth knows now that she can’t go back to that time of her life, so she was making an effort to move forward. She tried to break out of the habit of belittling Dean in her head and promised to be more present when attending Jane’s class parties. She even encouraged Dean to pursue his dreams instead of working for someone else as a cheesy salesman. 

But this internal reflection and subsequent correction was starting to ebb away at her. Every bright smile she gave or supportive comment she offered only made her feel hollow and reaffirmed how alone she was. 

Beth grips the edge of the sink a little tighter and spits out to herself in frustration, “You just need to be a little happier.”

“You ain’t happy, Mrs. Cleaver?”

Beth spins around like an out of control top. She thinks she’s going crazy when she can’t find him anywhere—until she sees something shiny reflect moonlight. Beth startles. His bright smile and a small nose ring stand out brightly against the dark shadows of the mudroom.

Rio has a teasing, familiar smile on his features but the dark peacoat signals to Beth that he’s come here on business. He pushes off the door he was leaning against with ease and makes his way to the kitchen island. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Nah, let’s talk about you for a sec,” he volleys back, “I wanna know what’s gonna to make my girl happy.”

His eyebrows raise in curiosity. He’s got that signature smirk and faux look of concern—and Beth? Well, Beth just wants to smack him. 

She smooths out her apron as her mind works to decipher what his angle could be in this line of questioning. She tries to think through the different ways he could turn the conversation around on her. Potential options roll through her mind, and she picks one that feels safe, barely incendiary. 

“I suppose a few grand wouldn’t hurt,” she offers with a mirthless smile.

Rio watches her with hooded eyes. The sarcasm in his expression melts, and she sees a more genuine smile take form.

“Is that right? Just a few grand?”

“Well, I wouldn’t object to going back to fifty-fifty.”

“Oh, so you wanna go back to being partners with me? That make you happy?”

And, Beth notices a quick shift in his mood right away. His eyes brighten with a mix of something clever and something that puts Beth on the edge. Her grip on the strings of her apron tightens. Of all the different ways this conversation could have gone, she could not have predicted this. Probably should have, but she makes a habit of breezing past his flirtatious comments and brushing them under the rug instead of letting them sear into her memory.

She remembers other things, though, like when he sparingly gives advice or freely criticizes her tactics. But comments that make her pulse race and leave her a little lost for words? Beth tosses those over her shoulder and never looks back. Focuses on what she can control.

Determined, Beth looks him right in the eye and makes her desire known.

“I’ll be happy when I get full ownership of _my_ business.”

He stares back, but doesn’t say anything. The words seem to reach Rio, but then disappear into thin air. Never to be acknowledged or responded to again. She can’t even read the blank look masking his inner thoughts. 

Parting her lips, Beth readies another attempt to get an answer out of him.

“Look—”

“You ain’t going to ask what’s gonna make me happy, darlin’?”

She blinks and her mind goes empty, trying to imagine what more she has to give. He already controls her business, could blackmail her into anything—what more could he want? Frustrations steadily building up over the course of the conversation, Beth feels this exact question on the tip of her tongue, threatening to jump. So, she takes the bait.

“What do you want?”

The iciness of his look cracks upon hearing her question and a self-satisfied smile splits across his features. Rio tilts his head to observe her, and she wonders if he just wanted to see her admit defeat, if he didn’t have any real plans or purpose. Maybe just wanted to get under her skin and on her nerves. 

“Lots of stuff, darlin’. But why don’t we start off easy, yeah?”

Beth carefully watches him saunter closer to the kitchen island. As the distance between them narrows, she starts to get nervous. Rio just shrugs languidly and says,

“Tell me where the money’s going.” 

Beth doesn’t understand. She’s confused why he would try this angle again. She wasn’t going to tell him the truth at the carwash, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell him the truth now in her kitchen. She would just evade and like about everything once again, and he knows this. Narrowing her eyes in skepticism, Beth inquires, 

“Why does it seem like we keep having this conversation?”

He dips his head and chuckles softly like he just heard an inside joke. 

“Which one?” 

Beth stares him down, mind swirling with even more confusion. She almost asks what the hell he’s talking about, but then she remembers something strangely familiar. The words ring clear through the confusion. Perhaps, it was their conversation outside Jane’s recital when she asked an eerily similar question. _Why do I feel like we keep having this conversation? I dunno know. You tell me._

Realization dawns on her face slowly. 

“Fifty-fifty,” he drawls, disappointment tingeing his answer, “Those were the days, yeah?”

Beth purses her lips and looks at him with apprehension, trying her best to read his next move but not daring to say anything. 

“Yeah, see, difference is that now? Now, I own you. So, when I ask you to jump, you say how high.” 

Rio arches his right eyebrow in expectation. He waits a beat and then asks gruffly, 

“So, where’s the money going?”

She quickly rotates through various excuses and replies, scrambling to get out of this. What can she give? What more does she have to give? What could she give the man who already has everything?

“What if I upped your cut?”

He looks around her empty house and chuckles darkly. When he focuses his gaze back on Beth, there’s a stern look on his face. 

“Nah, I wanna know.”

Beth stares back, curiosity eating away at her. Questions tumble over each other so quickly that she can’t ignore the small mountain they amassed into. She can’t recall another time when Rio had pushed on a topic like this so adamantly, and she’s not able to figure out why he thought this conversation would go any differently. What can she say to him that won’t immediately set off his bullshit detector? What careful web of lies can she weave so that he won’t use it as a trap for her? 

Beth bites her lip and wonders. She wonders and wonders and wonders. And then looks up to watch him—watch him watching her. It’s always him watching her. But it’s also something more, Beth thinks. It’s gauging her reactions and pushing her limits. It’s challenging her empty promises and infringing on her personal space. It’s taking quick litmus tests and—something clicks in place.

“What do you want?”

“I already told you.”

“No,” she interrupts brusquely and her tone is a touch accusing when she says, “No, what do you actually want from me.”

And what little bit that Beth could read on his face beforehand quickly folds back up into its standard blankness, giving away nothing.

“What I want, huh?” he mocks under his breath.

And, she knows she’s asking for a lot by demanding Rio to be transparent for once, but she’s feeling rather testy after all his mind games and isn’t feeling gracious enough to let go. 

“You want me to fall into line and print more money? Maybe you’re interested in twisting my arm into buying another hot tub place?” she enunciates sharply, “What exactly do you want from me?”

He rolls his shoulders back in a quick, smooth movement. 

“You can't afford what I want,” he replies casually, like he was dismissing her as silly and inconsequential. She feels her pride bruise and purple in response, but there’s a tension in his jaw that encourages Beth to charge ahead. She asks pointedly,

“You sure about that?” 

Lithely rounding the corner, Rio matches the challenge in her eyes. He stops just a couple feet away. In sugary pink tones, she continues, 

“In case I need to remind you, I’m good at what I do and my business is running successfully. So, just give me a number.”

“You ain’t gettin’ it,” he says thickly, a drop of emotion coloring the empty canvas of his words. And it’s frustration, Beth realizes. Because if she’s being honest—which is a hard thing for her—she knew what he wanted, but she wasn’t willing to give it so freely. 

“Everything in this world has a price,” she huffs out. And then with a quieter tone, “So, what do you want?”

He rolls his bottom lip into his mouth and tilts his head just slightly, just considering her. And it’s the evening chill that makes Beth shiver, not his proximity or singular focus on her and her alone—something she covertly craved.

“What I want,” he starts in a measured, controlled tone, “doesn’t have a price.” 

Rio lets Beth search his eyes for a clearer answer, as if it was locked up behind his gaze. 

But when has he ever helped her connect the dots? Rio shifts the conversation before she can follow up and asks a question Beth isn’t prepared for.

“You ever figure out why we never worked as partners back then?”

She breathes out forcefully, exasperated by the way he’s probing and digging, not letting sleeping dogs lie. Memories of that brief, tumultuous, exciting period occupy her thoughts. Something tightens in her chest as she hones in on the reason for their mutual destruction. Of course she knows what it was, what it all came down to. Yet, Beth can’t bring herself to say the words. Her chest feels heavy, as if it’s trying to stack on another layer of armour and shield her weak spots.

“You lied to me about the pills.” 

He scoffs. She wonders if he sees right through her.

He takes a step closer to where she’s leaning against the counter, and Beth feels the confidence roll off of Rio and fill up the space between them. Could he see the chinks in her armour from that distance? 

Eying him warily, she mutters, 

“My kids were in danger.”

“Try again, mamí.” 

Another step closer. The flames in Rio’s eyes burn a little brighter. Rio shortens the distance between them a little bit more, and her heart is beating much faster than before. Beth panics, hoping that he wouldn’t continue to poke and prod because she wasn’t sure how long she could keep her defenses up under his intense stare. She wishes she had some clever maneuver up her sleeve, but as always, she’s backed into a corner and— and god, has he always seen her so clearly? 

“No more bullshit, Elizabeth. Answer the damn question.”

Captivated by the heat in his gaze, Beth doesn’t have much capacity to filter her thoughts.

“We didn’t, uh,” she hesitates, but then can only blunder out, “we didn’t trust each other.” 

The words come out quietly and quickly, like she didn’t really want to say the words. And maybe it’s because she feels _weird_ sharing what’s on her mind. Maybe her lungs weren’t prepared for the force of conviction that comes when you believe what you’re saying. Maybe she was so out of practice that her mouth wasn’t used to how the truth felt on her lips. 

A tired smile plays at the corners of his lips as Rio shakes his head in response to her confession.

“Thought I told you from the beginning.” 

Already smarting from the rawness of their exchange, Beth narrows her eyes in silent contempt. She glares at him because she knows she wasn’t the only culpable party. There was something intriguing about how the truth tasted and with it still lingering on her tongue, Beth wasn’t ready to bury the truth yet.

“And you should’ve taken your own advice,” Beth retorts. When she sees irritation flash across his face, she licks her lips and tastes that refreshing flavor of vulnerability again.

“Why’d you hand me your gun?” 

She cruelly waits for an answer, letting silence punctuate her question for several long moments. When she doesn’t get one, she barges ahead.

“If you didn’t trust me, you never would’ve made a mistake like that, would you?” 

“I mean,” she scoffs, “you let me see your apartment and meet your son. What a foolish thing to do around someone you supposedly didn’t trust.” 

His jaw sets rigidly and lips curl in anger, but it doesn’t erase the exhaustion that Beth sees weighing heavy on him. And she feels it on her shoulders too. But, she’s not going to retreat. Not yet. She’s clear-headed for once and nowhere near done.

“I did trust you. I’ll admit it. But then you,” she grits out. “You broke my trust multiple times. What did you expect was going to happen when the situation was reversed?”

“Luckily I don’t make the same mistake twice, huh?”

Beth rolls her eyes when she bites back, “Oh, really? Then why am I alive?”

And it’s surprising when something gentle smooths out his features. Beth sees a version of him that she hadn’t seen in a long time. A version of him that knew it was time to fold but still held onto his cards in futile protest. A version that she felt unfamiliar with. So she pushes a little further and breathes out,

“You don’t get to put this all on me.”

This time, the pointed silence sharply cuts into Beth. She sees this look on Rio’s face that makes her curse herself for letting her emotions erupt and spill over like that. She wonders when was the last time the truth had ever done any good for her. 

The long, drawn-out stillness quickly puts a damper on the adrenaline borne from her diatribe. The exhaustion from earlier feels more weighted now, and Beth just wants to be done with the mess they made. She shakes her head and Rio can hear the strain in her voice when she says, 

“Just tell me what price I have to pay.” 

“What price would you put on loyalty?” 

The huskiness in his voice and furrow in his brow reveals more than he intended. He moves closer, imposing himself in her space. She holds his gaze with a steely look of her own, the same one that intrigued Rio in the first place. And just as was the case back then, he still could see her for who she truly was and that transparency scared Beth more than anything else in the world. 

“You asked me what I wanted earlier, so c’mon, what price would you put on loyalty?”

Beth does her best not to flinch when she hears his question for the second time, but it’s all a little too much and she averts her eyes from his perceptible gaze. She stares out into the darkness of the night through the kitchen window. It isn’t much better. She can see their reflections separated by just a hair in the glow of the window and suddenly, there isn’t enough air in the room.

She sees his reflection move before she feels the rough pads of his fingers gently brush her temple. Her eyelids close in quiet surrender. She breathes in the scent of pine. There still isn’t enough air.

Letting out a small sigh, Beth takes a moment to open her eyes and cranes her neck to peer up at Rio. He just stares back, content with watching her. Then, he leans forward and Beth thinks her heart jumped out of her chest. His cheek brushes against strawberry blonde tresses; he’s too close.

“How much for your loyalty, Elizabeth?” he whispers, warm breath fanning her ear.

Beth feels like she should know the answer to this question. But her head is spinning with questions. _Isn’t money the one simple thing in life_ — _black, green, and coveted by all? Doesn’t everything have a price?_

Beth wishes he would shoot her instead of making her face this. Since that night in his apartment, everything between them had been weighed down by hurt feelings and hidden meanings, and now Beth just wanted out. 

More than anything, she wanted to hear that distinct pride in his voice when she outsmarts him. She wanted to know where she stood with him. She wanted his hungry gaze swallowing her whole, and truly, honestly, unfortunately—she wanted to go back to having fun with him. 

He pulls back while her mind is still fuzzy and overwhelmed, but there’s only an inch of space between them. 

Lips parted, Beth realizes she can’t even rely on her old habit of splendidly spun stories and carefully crafted lies. And how could she when she didn’t know what truth she was covering up?

Vulnerability twists around and fills the cavities in her chest. Searching his eyes for refuge in this mess of a conversation, she mutters a weak response, 

“I don’t know.”

And now he pulls back completely and pushes his hands into his coat pockets. Beth immediately notices the firm line of his lips and furrow in his eyebrows, and it’s clear to her that the other version of him had disappeared right before her eyes.

“Then you gotta figure it out,” he orders her quietly. He isn’t looking at her anymore, just staring at a spot behind her head. 

“When you do, you know where to find me.” 

Beth hears the patio door creak and close shut. She stays rooted in place. There’s a muted rumble of an engine, and she moves towards the kitchen window. The porch light illuminates nothing in particular, but Beth still feels the picnic table stare back at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading this fic! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)


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